


Honk

by Crowgirl



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Geese, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:56:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: Geralt leans against the open barn door, crosses his arms over his chest, and watches as Jaskier scrambles backwards up the logpile to escape the oncoming pair of geese.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 299





	Honk

Geralt doesn’t bother waking all the way when he feels Jaskier get up -- there’s nothing wrong and the bed they’d made the night before out of hay and blankets is far too comfortable. He’s earned a lie-in after a sighting of a single wandering _púca_ had turned out to be a nest of particularly bad-tempered _púcaí_ ; the nasty slash over his shoulders is nearly healed over but the muscle still aches. 

Jaskier gets dressed quietly, takes his lute and repair kit, drops a kiss on Geralt’s bare shoulder, and is gone out into the dimming morning sunshine.

Geralt dozes as the farm wakes up around him -- he can hear the family starting to move around in the house next to the barn, the clatter of the stove being fired up, an abrupt smell of burning as a pan left in the wrong place makes itself known. The cows start to shuffle in their stalls below, anticipating the arrival of milking time and then release out into the fields. 

He can hear Jaskier, too, even catch the faint scent of the oil he’s working carefully into the body of the lute. He can picture Jaskier’s fingers gleaming with the stuff, one fingertip rubbing cautiously under the strings while the other cradles the curve of the body of the instrument. He shifts slightly, the hay rustling beneath him, and wonders if it would be worthwhile trying to persuade Jaskier to come back to bed. 

There’s a sharp unmelodic _twonk_ and Jaskier curses, loudly. ‘See if I ever buy strings from that shifty little--’ 

Geralt smiles and pulls the blanket up over his head, ready to let the sounds of Jaskier swearing and fussing with the newly broken string lull him back to sleep but before he can get there--

‘Uh. Hello,’ Jaskier says, voice suddenly cautious. ‘And how are you this morning.’

Geralt is sitting up before he thinks about it. He hadn’t heard one of the family come out, Jaskier already greeted Roach--

There’s a loud squawking _honk_ and Jaskier gasps; there’s a scrambling noise and a thud -- Geralt guesses that whatever he’d been sitting on has just tipped over.

‘Not a fan of morning music? So sorry, if I’d known I’d -- oh, my, you really are… very large, aren’t you? Is that right? Seems like birds shouldn’t get that -- ah, haha, okay, all right, yes, yes, yes, I’m going--’ 

Geralt slips his shirt on over his unlaced breeches and climbs down out of the hayloft barefoot. Roach lifts her head but doesn’t stop chewing; he gives her a stroke along her neck and the underside of her jaw. ‘Never leaves me in peace, does he?’

Roach snorts and returns her attention to her feed as if she knows exactly how little Geralt is complaining. 

* * *

When Geralt pads out into the pale sunshine, the farmer is standing at her door, too, hands on her hips, squinting against the light. When she sees Geralt, she nods to him, then turns and vanishes back into the kitchen. There’s the sound of distant laughter.

Geralt leans against the open barn door, crosses his arms over his chest, and watches as Jaskier scrambles backwards up the logpile to escape the oncoming pair of geese. He’s abandoned his leather repair kit near the door where Geralt’s standing but he has his lute protectively above his head; Geralt can see the broken string curling back on itself. 

The geese are hissing, necks stretched forward, and Geralt has to admit that, for farmyard birds, they are large. The other fowl around the yard are starting to wake up, attracted by the commotion the geese are making. A few chickens flutter off the fence; another pair of geese come out to reinforce the first pair.

Jaskier sits down heavily on the top of the logpile. ‘Look, I’m very sorry for disturbing your sleep but--’ One of the geese lets out a loud noise like a badly tuned horn and Jaskier flinches and sends a couple small logs tumbling down. ‘Well, how could I know the string would break!’

Geralt clears his throat and Jaskier looks up. The look of relief on his face when he sees Geralt is both heartwarming and, in the circumstances, ludicrous. 

‘Geralt! Oh, thank Melitele! Would you mind very much giving me a hand?’

‘They’re geese.’

‘I can _see_ they’re geese, thank you very much, but they’re also _huge_ and apparently quite unhappy with me.’ As he speaks, one of the geese gives a heavy flap and lands a few logs up the pile. Jaskier squeaks.

‘Just shoo them away.’ 

‘Geralt!’ The goose on the log stretches up towards Jaskier and gives out a hiss that sounds, Geralt must admit, quite menacing. ‘Geralt, if you don’t get over here and rescue me right this moment, I will never --’ He glances up at the open farmhouse door. ‘--Do that thing you particularly like ever again.’

‘Oh, the thing _I_ particularly like?’ Geralt pads over, carefully avoiding the aging cowpats, and gives one of the geese a gentle kick. It startles and flaps its wings but when it turns to hiss at Geralt, he hisses back and, either cowed or startled, it turns and shuffles away. He has to grab the goose that’s trying to clamber up the logpile by the wings to get its attention, but soon enough they’re just a flock of geese ambling around a barnyard. Geralt steps back down onto solid ground and holds a hand out to Jaskier with a flourish. ‘My lady.’

‘Ha bloody ha.’ Jaskier makes his way down carefully, ignoring Geralt’s hand until one of the last logs rolls under his feet and Geralt’s forced to grab him before he loses his balance. Jaskier tries to glare at him, but it’s less fierce than it might be given that he’s fitting himself with the ease of familiarity into the curve of Geralt’s arm. ‘I’ll have you know they started it.’

‘Of course they did,’ Geralt agrees. ‘So, what’s my reward for rescuing you from dire peril? I lost sleep over it, you know.’

Jaskier narrows his eyes at him for a minute, then breaks into a sunny smile. The hand not clutching the neck of his lute slides down over Geralt’s hip to squeeze the swell of his ass. ‘Well, I think I should remind you just how _much_ you like -- er -- that -- particular thing. So maybe you’ll be a little quicker to assist me in future!’

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to the pair of plain white farmyard geese my parents goose-sat for friends when I was very very small. In my memory, they're about nine feet tall with bright red eyes and I am not joking.


End file.
